


The Boss 2

by LanceTheFuckerTucker



Series: The Boss [2]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Sebastian Stan - Fandom, The Avengers
Genre: 70's Bucky AU, Bucky Barnes strip club AU, Multi, WOO BLOWJOBS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9455318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTheFuckerTucker/pseuds/LanceTheFuckerTucker
Summary: After your shopping trip with Nat, Bucky wants to see how his money was spent.





	

You spent a good two hours getting ready to meet Nat. Although, it only took half an hour for Angie’s room to look like a garbage dump. Angie lay lazily on her front, flicking through a copy of Creem and sucking on a cigarette, paying little attention to the destruction you were causing.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel like you looked far too plain in low-slung flares and a Derek and the Dominos t-shirt that showed off your midriff. ‘What do strippers even wear in their downtime?’ you asked yourself, trying to guess how Nat dressed when she wasn’t working.

You imagined her to have a certain degree of glamour about her. Her tumbling curls and full red lips screamed 1950’s sex appeal, after all. You, on the other hand, were more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt. You felt like an ass in anything else.

Scanning the heaving rail of Angie’s clothes, an emerald green smock dress grabbed your attention. You cleared your throat, turning to Angie with pleading eyes.

Angie looked up.

“Can I borrow this?” you asked, pulling the dress out from the rail.

She beamed, “Sure, it’s your colour, honey. Just make sure not to get any stains on it.”

“What do you think I’m gonna be doing, Ange!” you laughed, pretending to be offended.

Angie kicked her legs behind her, pretending to think for a moment. Then she shot you a knowing look: “I know what goes on at these places!”

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of your clothes and into Angie’s dress; the swinging hem just grazing your thighs. Then you sunk yourself into your signature thigh-high platforms. You were the perfect balance between casual and sexy. You turned to Angie, throwing out your arms, awaiting her opinion.

Angie nodded, a restrained smile on her full lips. It wasn’t her usual toothy grin. Something was wrong.

“Ange?” you said, plonking yourself down beside her, “what’s up?”

“You just gotta be careful, ok, honey?” she said softly, leaning her head against your side.

You carded your fingers through her hair. She worried about you far more than your own mother did and you were grateful for it. Leaning down, you kissed her forehead. “I promise,” you assured her.

The truth is, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Hopping off the bus, you saw Nat already waiting for you across the street. She leaned nonchalantly against the window of a record store, looking far classier than she had the night before. A purple shift dress, wide black wayfarers and white sandals were all it took to transform her. She was a vision. No one would ever realise what she did for a living just by looking at her.

“Nat!” you called, waving awkwardly in her direction.

She was ecstatic to see you, bounding across the road and pulling you into the most bone-crushing hug of your life.

“Hey sweetie!” she squealed as she picked you up.

“It’s good to see you,” you smiled, burying your face into her fiery mane. She smelled like violets.

She put you down and cupped your face in her hands, looking at you with a faux-serious expression: “we gotta slut you up.”

Before you had time to respond, Natalie grabbed your hand and led you down the avenue. You figured that this might be a common thing in your budding friendship as she excitedly strode on ahead. You struggled to keep up. You prayed she would be taking you to some of the more respectable spots in the city. After all, you had cash to burn now. Nat had other ideas.

Nat took you to a place called The Playpen.

“It’s where all the girls get their outfits,” she giggled as she burst through the door, hauling you with her.

You felt yourself blush as you entered the cramped store; you had never seen anything like this place. The smell of patchouli overwhelmed you and there was barely any room to breathe. But it had everything. From whips, heels and collars to all manner of phallic objects so huge it made you wonder if anyone actually had an orifice big enough to squeeze them into. You weren’t a prude, but this place made you nervous as you eyed their wares.

Allowing you little time to acclimatise, Nat was already expertly whipping around the rails of leather, lace and latex picking up garments and holding them up to you.

Truthfully, you were glad she was taking the lead because you did didn’t trust your judgment in your limited experience of stripper attire. You thought yesterday’s outfit was sexy enough. But crotchless panties? These were lewd. They, of course, were added to the bundle in your arms.

You raised an eyebrow at Nat. Was that a silver bikini?

“Are any of these for you?” you laughed nervously as she threw the metallic bottoms onto the growing mountain threatening to topple at any second.

She turned to you, blowing a bubble with her gum and rapidly popping it.

“These are for me,” you quietly confirmed with a nod, “just making sure.”

“I’m telling ya, sweetie,” she began, holding up a pair of sheer red panties, “these are gonna look great on you. Bucky’s gonna love ‘em.”

The thought of appealing to Bucky eclipsed your reluctance to be there. Now, you really were invested in the process of selecting your workwear.

“How about that to match?” you asked, nodding towards a red latex dress hanging up beside it.

Nat gasped and threw the dress onto the pile. “I might get one too, we can match,” she winked, picking one up for herself.

“Yeah, we’d make a real dream team,” you remarked, dropping half of your items by accident.

“Alright, let’s try these on,” Nat suggested, scooping up the rogue pairs of panties and making for the changing booths.

Alone in your cubicle wearing only your boots and your underwear, you studied yourself in the mirror in much the same way you did before you left Angie’s. Taking the red dress from the hanger, you stepped into it. Your flesh pulled itself painfully into the shiny confines of your new favourite item and with an almost excessive amount of wriggling, it was finally in place. You could barely move and when you did, your dress made a series of ear-piercing squeaks. But you looked great. You finally looked the part.

Running your hands over your svelte figure, your confidence overflowed more than your pushed up bosom. At least on your own, you felt powerful. Sexy. Somewhat comfortable.

The curtain of your booth snatched itself open and Nat bundled herself in beside you wearing her dress. She was every inch the femme fatale you knew she could be.

“You look incredible! Red’s totally your colour!” she gushed excitedly, bouncing up and down.

“You think?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah, look at these titties!” she squealed, groping your breasts from behind and jiggling them as much as your dress would allow.

“I’ll take your word for it. We look like a good team,” you said, moving over to get a view of you both in the full-length mirror.

Nat spun around in elation in the cramped space.

“I’ve got the tits, and you’ve got the ass,” you remarked.

Bikinis, lingerie sets, stockings, heels. You exited the store weighed down by all manner of ‘work’ attire and four hundred bucks lighter. You had to admit, the thrill of picking up anything you (Nat) wanted without worrying about the price tag would take a long time to fade for you, all the more reason to stick at your new job.

You and Nat struggled with armfuls of your purchases until you could struggle no more.

“Lunch?” you grimaced.

“Lunch,” Nat conceded breathlessly.

You made it two more blocks before settling on a classy Italian place.

Sitting in a booth by the window, you and Nat finished your lunch. It presented you with the opportunity to ask her some of the more pressing questions on your mind about your new means of employment.

Taking a sip of wine, you began, “so how did you get into it?”

Nat’s friendly demeanour suddenly turned cold. “My parents died when I was your age, so I started working the trade. Quickly developed some bad habits. Bucky found me right before I turned to harder drugs to cope. I didn’t have to fuck for my money anymore,” she shrugged, “I just had to dance. How about you?”

Your origin story wasn’t nearly as harrowing as her’s. You crossed your arms. “My parents were just pushy I guess,” you mused, still bitter about them kicking you out. “You know, I’m in college, I’m gonna drink. But they weren’t having it. They threw me out when I lost my old job. I don’t have any savings,” you rambled.

Nat raised an eyebrow, “but why stripping?”

“It’s my drinking,” you admitted, “there’s no way I could hold down a regular job. I need a way out of the shit I’ve gotten myself into and fast.”

“I get that,” she said, reaching across the table for your hand and giving it a squeeze. You were shocked that this woman who had seen far more than you was able to muster that kind of support.

“Did you ever feel apprehensive about the whole thing?” you asked, the worry cutting through in your tone.

Nat swallowed her wine and nodded profusely, “oh my god. I could barely dance my first shift. Passed out at the end of the night. But everyone at the club is great. We all have each others’ backs.” She paused, searching for the words, “kinda like a family.”

“I’m kinda worried about my first shift,” you blushed.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie, you’re gonna be great. Me and Stevie are gonna keep an eye out for you, make sure no one gets too handsy. You say the words and we’ll turf ‘em out. You know how to throw a punch, though, right?”

To be honest, Nat’s question felt like someone had punched you. You knew ‘Legs’ was seedy, but you weren’t used to violence. You had never been in a situation that required it. You shook your head.

Nat raised an eyebrow. “We’ll have to fix that. These guys will try things. And that’s the only language they understand.”

Changing the subject you had to ask about the owner of the club. You hadn’t stopped wondering about him. “And what about Bucky?”

Nat shrugged, “what about him?”

“What’s his story?” you pressed.

“He doesn’t really talk about his past. All I know is that he’s a former hitman,” Nat began.

Somehow, this didn’t surprise you. He had an air of smouldering menace about him.

“And he loves his mom, a lot. She was a dancer too. Comes to the club sometimes. She’s sweet. And Stevie, Barton and Sam are his buddies. Bucky never gives too much away so that’s all I know. But he’s good to us girls, so I trust him” she offered.

Then she looked at her watch, her jaw dropped. “It’s almost three! We’re supposed to be back by three thirty!”

“We’d better go then,” you grinned, downing the remaining wine in your glass.

Ten minutes later your found yourself in a taxi, darting its way through the mid-afternoon bustle. Nat eyed her watch again, settling beside you, safe in the knowledge you wouldn’t be late anymore. According to her, Bucky ran the club with an iron fist and didn’t tolerate poor time management.

Over the next five minutes, you battled to contain your risqué purchases in their bags as the car whipped around corners and swerved lanes. At three twenty-five, you arrived at ‘Legs’ with five minutes to spare.

“I have to go pay Stevie a visit, will you be alright on your own with the boss?” she asked quietly as you entered the near-empty club together.

“Sure,” you said, taking an armful of bags from her and weighing yourself down.

You both trudged towards the black corridor, parting ways at the first door which led to Stevie’s office.

Through the crack in the door, you caught sight of one of the girls from last night draped across his desk, her dress hitched up around her hips. Stevie was thrusting away lazily between her legs.

You had questions but the ache in your arms told you that those could wait until later.

Your footsteps fell soft on the plush carpet as you made your way to Bucky’s office, the same chill washing over you as it did yesterday when you made the same journey. It was three twenty eight.

Once more, you knocked three times.

“C’mon in!”

You half expected the same thing to be happening in Bucky’s office, so you opened the door slowly in anticipation, poking your head in to check that the coast was clear.

It was. Bucky was lounged back in his desk chair, feet up, head back. His eyes shot over to you through hooded lids.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked in a small voice.

Bucky smirked, taking a sip from the glass of whisky on his desk. “I believe I wanted to see where my money went.”

You took this as an invitation to slip into the room. There was a whirlwind of smoke hovering above.

Your boss shuffled forward in his chair when he saw the armfuls of bags you were carrying. “My my, we are gonna be busy. Come, sit down. You want a drink?”

“Yes please,” you smiled nervously, wandering over to the seat opposite Bucky.

Leaning back, Bucky grabbed a glass and an expensive looking decanter from the cabinet behind him, his outstretched arm allowing his linen shirt to wrap tighter around his well-defined bicep. You watched as he poured you a measure of deep amber liquid. He topped up his glass and handed you your’s.

He raised his, making eye contact, “welcome to the family, kiddo.”

You gave a coy smile and downed your drink, spluttering as it burned your throat.

“So,” Bucky began, “are you gonna show me your new workwear?”

You felt the blood go to your cheeks as you stood up to rummage in the first bag, pulling out a silver bikini to begin with. You pressed the top to your chest, unable to meet Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky raised his eyebrows in approval. He had to go there though: “I don’t think that’s gonna work over the dress.”

“Oh… uh… You want me to try these on? Now?” you asked with wide eyes.

“I have to see what you’re gonna be offering our clients, don’t be shy,” he said.

You weren’t sure if he was being condescending or attempting to comfort you but his words shot through you, sending needles of heat through every inch of your body.

You bit your lip and turned your back to Bucky. Angie’s dress came off. Then your underwear was sent pooling around your ankles. Panicking slightly in your exposed state, you tied the strings to the metallic bikini as quickly as you could. The tiny patches of silver doing little to alleviate your nerves, or to contain your flesh for that matter.

And then you turned around to face your boss.

He lounged back in his chair, drinking you in.

You clasped your hands in front of your body, waiting for your boss’ appraisal.

“Very nice,” he purred, “you got a great rack, kiddo.”

You couldn’t help but dance from foot to foot at his praise, beaming widely, “I have more if you wanna see, boss?”

“I really do,” Bucky said, biting his lower lip.

Gaining confidence, you twirled on your heel and untied your bikini, letting it fall to the floor. Standing in nothing but your black boots, you bent over the mass of bags, fumbling for another outfit to model for Bucky.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Admiring your ass, he felt his cock twitch.

Distracting himself, he rose to his feet and walked towards the collection of records he kept behind his desk.

“Kinda music you like, kiddo?”

You were now clad in a purple lingerie set, shimmying your way into a tight satin dress. “Rock and roll,” you said, peeking over your shoulder at Bucky.

He thumbed through his collection, arriving at Led Zeppelin. Taking the vinyl from its slip case, he placed it on the turntable and dropped the needle, allowing himself to be hypnotised with each revolution.

“I’m gonna need your help,” you cooed, struggling with your zipper.

He turned to you, leaning against the cabinet. “C’mere,” he commanded, cocking his head.

You wasted no time in slinking behind his desk. You were comfortable enough leaving about a foot between you and him, but he grabbed your hand, pulling you in. You were pressed against Bucky, staring at him, torn between nerves in your belly and the bulge in his jeans.

“I’m not sure the dress is gonna work,” he commented, thumbing at the strap on your dress.

“Why’s that?” you asked, slightly disappointed.

“I think you’d look way better without it, is all,” he said with a devilish look in his eye.

“Should I take it off?” you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes and nervously moving your hips to the music.

He took a couple of steps back, sitting back down and leading you by your hand over to him. He pulled you a little too far until you lost your balance; your only option was to straddle him.

Now you were eye to eye, eagerly waiting for him to make the next move.

Bucky’s cold hands travelled all the way from your thighs, up to the neckline of your dress, peeling the fabric from your skin, leaving your bra intact. “That’s better,” he murmured cocking his head to the side.

You could smell the whisky on his breath when he leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours. You leaned further into him, tangling your hands through his thick dark hair. Then your dress became bunched up around your middle.

Bucky’s tongue had snaked its way past your lips while he gripped your ass. He moaned in satisfaction when your hips began to move fluidly against his.

You moved away from his lips to lay claim to his neck, leaving a sheen on his skin from your lip gloss. It wasn’t long before he pulled you by your hair back to his mouth, greedily biting down on your lip.

Unable to take it anymore, Bucky broke away, looking up at you. “You ever sucked cock before?”

You moved back, pointedly aware of what was about to happen between you and your boss. You shook your head and undid the buttons on his stone wash jeans, never once breaking eye contact.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Bucky murmured.

“Yeah?” you grinned, running a shaky hand over the dark curls protruding from his jeans. Undoing the final button on his fly, you pulled his cock free. You weren’t sure if you could do this, but still you ran a palm over his length. You marvelled at how soft his skin was, wrapping your fingers gently around him.

“You nervous, kiddo?”

“A little,” you admitted, tearing your attention away from his cock.

“That’s normal. Don’t be afraid to go a little harder, you’re not gonna break it,” Bucky encouraged, placing his hand over yours, “see?”

You nodded, slinking onto the floor between Bucky’s legs. Reluctantly, you poked out your tongue and ran it over the tip of Bucky’s cock. It wasn’t as bad as Angie had told you.

Pressing your hand at the base, you began to make your way over his shaft with your lips and your tongue. You weren’t quite confident enough to take him in your mouth just yet.

Bucky lounged back. He loved how innocent and unsure you looked as you fumbled your way through the beginnings of your first blowjob.

Feeling the dampness between your legs, your bravery welled up inside you. You finally inched Bucky’s cock between your parted lips as far as it could go.  
It wasn’t as seductive as you wanted it to be. You gagged. Angie was right, it was terrible. But you had to finish the job, you were stubborn that way.

Fluttering your eyelashes, you gave the tip of Bucky’s cock a slow swirl and brought yourself back down. Bucky gave a low groan which spurred you on. You settled into a steady rhythm, trying not to focus on your discomfort as your mascara tracked a grey path down your cheek. You looked up at Bucky, seeking approval.

“Good girl,” Bucky cheered you on, pushing your bangs out of your eyes.

You found it easier to use your hand as a buffer, mostly to stop yourself choking on his length as you attempted to take more, to please him more, to make him moan louder. His fingers raked over your scalp, grasping at handfuls. Your jaw was beginning to hurt as your mouth was stretched to capacity. But you loved those little growls he gave and the way his hips rolled in response to your actions. The power you wielded over this man encouraged you on.

You were starting to enjoy this.

And then there was a knock at the door. Startled, you brought yourself off his cock with a pop.

“Stay there,” Bucky whispered.

Turning his attention to the door, he ordered the interruptor to come in.

“Hey! Boss, I just wanna tell you that we’re outta that fine Russian vodka, you gotta place an order, man. I need that shit to make my special screwdrivers.”

You didn’t recognise the muffled voice. It wasn’t Nat or Stevie. But you were getting bored with your hand frozen around Bucky’s cock. So you used your initiative and began to slowly tease him, hidden from view.

“Luis, I’m kinda busy, man. I’m on it.”

Bucky was cold and direct.

“Ok, man! You have a great time.”

Then the door closed and Bucky’s attention was back on you. And more importantly, your mouth was back on Bucky’s cock.

“You can’t just tease me in front of people like that,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing his cock just a tad deeper, making you cough.

You placed your hand against his abdomen and brought yourself off his cock again. Your eyes were burning from your running make up now. “I’m sorry boss,” you cooed, returning your attention to the goal at hand with renewed enjoyment.

Eventually, you were able to take every last inch of him and you were pretty damn proud of yourself for it.

“You like that?” Bucky hissed as the muscles in his thigh tightened under your free hand.

“Mmmhm,” you mumbled through a strained mouthful.

You continued to work your mouth up and down over his throbbing member with Bucky groaning and cursing in time with each pass until his grip on your hair tightened.

“I’m so close,” he growled.

You could tell. But hearing him saying it made you brace yourself. Angie warned you that this was the worst part

It truly grossed you out when Bucky flooded your mouth with a thick stream of cum.

Unsure of what to do, you made a dash for one of the empty glasses on the desk and heaved. Collapsing on the floor against the desk, you were crimson-cheeked and breathless. But at least it was out of your mouth. Panic over.

Bucky chuckled at the sight of you. “You’ll learn, kiddo,” he told you, reaching into the top drawer of his desk and pulling out a bright white silk handkerchief. He gently swept the material over your makeup smeared face.

You leaned back, head up. “I hope so,” you smiled.

Bucky spoke reassuringly, cutting through the awkwardness you felt: “You’re in the family now, kiddo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! Any and all feedback greatly appreciated!


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